Became the Patron of Villains Chapter 352 : The Ball (1)
Previously on Became the Patron of Villains...
Palmaryan already harbored those suspicions.
The motive driving Marquis Palatio to construct Divine Land.
Likely, his aim was to ascend as king.
...
“Yes.”
“War?”
Nevertheless.
He never imagined the marquis would declare his war ambitions so brazenly.
In his view, such a direct approach was the gravest blunder, utterly unfit for a future ruler.
“Haa...”
Sighing deeply, Palmaryan pondered the situation with composure.
Was the marquis genuinely plotting to ignite a conflict?
Despite turning it over in his mind repeatedly, doubt kept creeping in, leaving him puzzled.
The marquis surely possessed superior strategies at his disposal.
Yet, upon remembering his son's account.
From every angle, it came across as a blatant declaration of war.
“So then... what exactly did you say occurred there?”
In response to Palmaryan's inquiry, Tolenis composed himself and recounted every event in Divine Land, sparing no particulars.
Starting from the initial exchange upon encountering Marquis Palatio.
Through the Divine Land knight's description of the territory's “deficiencies.”
And concluding with the marquis's outright refusal of all sponsorship proposals.
“That’s everything.”
“Nothing more?”
“Nothing, sire.”
Another sigh escaped Palmaryan.
Regardless of the viewpoint or motive he considered.
The marquis's purpose shone through unmistakably.
To put it plainly.
“If you don’t want war, then let’s settle this peacefully. Pay up—but not the amount you suggested, much more...”
He weighed the implications gravely.
Marquis Palatio wielded immense strength.
Owing to his remarkable exploits, his standing among the Allied Kingdoms soared impressively.
Even so.
Such overt demands for tribute hardly benefited the marquis.
For despite his might, should the Allied Kingdoms unite in resolve and launch a unified assault—
Should they truly commit...
“Hmm.”
“...Would he still lose?”
Palmaryan reflected on the marquis's past accomplishments.
Then he contemplated the loyal followers rallying behind him.
Indeed, the outcome wouldn't prove straightforward.
While he delved further into contemplation, the silent figure at last voiced his thoughts.
“Your Majesty, may I speak?”
“Speak.”
It was Duke Padrima, handling a distinct briefing.
“I think it prudent to convene with allies and deliberate on this collectively.”
“To me, that implies readying for battle alongside fellow realms. Right?”
“That is correct.”
“Are you dismissing Marquis Palatio’s exploits?”
The duke denied it with a shake of his head.
“Far from it. Actually, no soul in the Allied Kingdoms would presume to belittle him.”
“Then why voice such an opinion?”
“For the sake of what lies ahead, Your Majesty.”
“The future?”
Duke Padrima pressed on as Palmaryan echoed softly.
“Marquis Palatio will claim kingship. Yet, would mere royalty quench his thirst?”
“You mean—”
“I hold that Marquis Palatio will crave even greater conquests.”
“...”
Palmaryan paused in quiet for an instant.
Naturally, this remained mere conjecture.
No one could predict the marquis's forthcoming decisions with certainty.
Yet the duke's assertion held plausible weight.
Though Palmaryan couldn't fully decipher the marquis's nature.
The individual possessed ample might to forge such a destiny.
Thus, as Palmaryan stroked his chin repeatedly, immersed in reflection—
“Your Majesty—”
“What is it?”
“News indicates Ashtalon has vowed to fund Divine Land.”
“What?”
A knight burst in bearing the pressing update.
“Is this accurate?”
“Yes—our informant confirmed it.”
“Hmm...”
Palmaryan creased his brow.
Undoubtedly, the Kingdom of Ashtalon had suffered heavy casualties, weakening its role in the Allied Kingdoms. Proceeding to battle sans Ashtalon posed no significant hurdle.
However, the key issue lay here.
Ashtalon's very decision to back Divine Land.
Once this intelligence spread.
Irrespective of Palmaryan's position, other states might voice their backing in solidarity.
And should that unfold.
Conflict would virtually evaporate as an option.
“If I waver now and endorse later than the rest—”
Earning the marquis's ire would come far too readily.
And that boded ill.
Marquis Palatio hadn't yet crowned himself a monarch; he controlled only Divine Land.
Still, his deeds alone deterred foes from challenging him.
Therefore.
“There’s no choice.”
The realization struck Palmaryan sharply.
Just one path had ever existed.
A profound groan rumbled from him.
***
Earlier, Duke Padrima had urgently advocated his stance to Palmaryan.
Yet now, aboard the carriage heading home, he tsked in irritation.
Due to Palmaryan's ruling.
“Another mess.”
Duke Padrima—
Rather, the infiltrator from the Eastern Empire Kasranoia, embedded in the Allied Kingdoms for two decades—
Released a profound breath.
“Why does every scheme twist into chaos...”
Frustration pounded in his skull.
During his initial slaying of the duke and assumption of his guise.
He'd assumed seamless progress.
After all, the Allied Kingdoms displayed far greater laxity than the Empire.
Granted, the Empire fractured into four divisions too...
This realm, splintered across five kingdoms and minor duchies, formed prime terrain for inciting “war within the Allied Kingdoms.”
Moreover, swaths of land evaded the Allied Kingdoms' firm grip.
It offered fertile soil for shadowy groups under his sway to flourish.
Hence, mere years back, he brimmed with confidence in his scheme's triumph.
The emergence of Outer Gods even drew his cheers.
Until Marquis Palatio emerged.
The marquis dismantled kingdom-threatening perils successively, in near-miraculous fashion.
Beyond that.
Once he launched into full action.
The clandestine syndicates he'd cultivated crumbled progressively, shredded apart.
“...”
Reflecting upon it stirred another sigh.
His gut still twisted recalling how his meticulously groomed networks vanished daily, one or two at a time.
Admittedly, Marquis Palatio hadn't demolished them single-handedly.
Yet the bizarre chain reaction sparked by the marquis's presence spiraled beyond restraint.
And it veered his designs toward collapse.
Even the daughter he'd meticulously positioned ages ago to ensnare Marquis Palatio had flopped.
Likewise, his timed ploy to rouse Palmaryan fell flat.
“Time grows short... I must ignite war before it expires—”
He grumbled fretfully while sketching fresh strategies.
“This is... rather interesting information.”
“Should we squeeze more out of it?”
“Yes, we should.”
He remained oblivious to potential eavesdroppers.
Duke Padrima, who had presumptuously schemed against Marquis Palatio.
In retribution, albeit mild, the elf and lizardman dispatched by Magrina fixed their eyes with a predatory glint.
***
Some seven days afterward, Alon reached the Magic Tower.
“Wow, it’s huge.”
Seolrang gaped in awe at the distant spire piercing the sky.
“Hey—move over! You’re crowding me!”
Ryanga elbowed Seolrang away, as Historia quietly directed her eyes toward the edifice.
Observing them in silence, Alon abruptly remembered events from a week prior.
Rine and Magrina departed immediately after pairings solidified.
Rine, manifesting via relic, inevitably needed to recede.
Magrina, elven chieftain, couldn't linger excessively either.
Yutia also took her leave temporarily.
“She said she had business, right?”
Wearing an expression of deep reluctance, Yutia vowed a reunion in Terea prior to departing for Rosario.
Thus, Alon journeyed to the tower solely with Ryanga, Historia, and Seolrang.
Despite the reduced group, Alon's conveyance buzzed with unrest.
Seolrang and Ryanga traded mischief nonstop en route.
...Every jest pulverizing a modest hill or vanishing an entire road segment.
In any case, their antics ensured Alon's trip to the tower stayed far from tedious.
“Huh?”
The scene unfolding evoked an odd query.
With no conference in session—and the site meant to be serene—
Mages swarmed the premises.
As though the tower's entire populace had spilled forth.
“What the heck are they?”
“Homeless...?”
Seolrang and Historia whispered while eyeing the throng.
From their vantage, such a notion seemed reasonable.
To Alon too, the outdoor mages appeared completely worn out.
Upon nearer view, modest shelters dotted the area.
Suggesting readiness for extended encampment.
Unwittingly, Alon shook his head at the idea.
Their attire unmistakably marked them as sorcerers.
This only amplified his bewilderment.
Whatever could prompt mages to pitch camp encircling the tower?
It defied logic.
And right then—
“Gasp!”
“A... a carriage!”
“Wh-who is it!”
Alon caught the mages' exclamations.
“M-Marquis Palatio!”
“Ah!”
“It’s Marquis Palatio’s carriage!”
“R-really?”
“It’s true! It’s the marquis’s carriage!”
The mages' shouts echoed loudly.
Suddenly, the weary forms, once fixated on the earth, whipped around to face Alon.
And then—
Thud-thud-thud-thud-thud—
They charged toward him in a frenzy.
“Uh—”
“Wh-what is that?”
“Boss, should I blow them away?”
Briefly, Alon wavered.
Hundreds of mages hurtling forth with frantic gazes exerted immense strain.
Thus, as Alon mulled his reaction—
And Seolrang, face grave, prepared to raise her foot—
“L-Lord Marquis! Please choose me!”
“?”
A lone mage pleaded in anguish.
“N-no, me! I’m good! I’m great at basic calculations!”
“Move aside!!! I’m a professor—no, I am a professor! Choose me! Please!!”
“Pick me! Please pick me!!”
“Huh??”
As though the instant they'd awaited, they surged to the carriage.
Yelling wildly, akin to proclaiming, “I’m great at coding!”
Alon's mind reeled in astonishment.